Pittsburgh Blues Festival: Sunday

 How Sweet It Is

Just like a bad penny, or wooden nickel, or a summer cold, BlueNotes just won't go away. Quietly.

We're back at the Pittsburgh Blues Festival at Hartwood Acres for its final day. The weather is even better than the first two days, if that's possible. Bring a chair or a blanket and grab your loved one and/or a cold one and come on out. Jill Simmons and Patti Spadara of theCAUSE are singing "How Sweet It Is," and that could just be the anthem for the rest of the day. Or maybe for the rest of BlueNotes' life. Or at least this week.

First, a little unfinished business from yesterday. Lots of people stopped by to say hello, so thank you all. Especially Don Vecchio of the Blues Society of Western Pa, who brought along Nothin' But Trouble's Greg Haughey and the band's CD, which sounded awfully good on the way out here this morning. Don is still trying to get BlueNotes to join the society, apparently unaware the BlueNotes is just not an actual person.

One of Pittsburgh's finest guitar men, Jimmy Adler said hello, as did one of its finest saxmen, Eric Spaulding. Thanks, guys.

In looking back over yesterday's posts, I realize that I failed to name several of the members of the Pittsburgh Blues All-Stars, who put on a crackling set. If anybody wants to list them all again..  let me know. And I'm still having trouble getting photos from the camera to the computer, but I'll try and go back and get some in from yesterday.

Meanwhile, theCAUSE (sorry I split up the name the other day!) is still scorching along with some more songs -- I love the old soul and R&B classics they're doing. Andrea Pearl joins Jill Simmons and guitarist Patti Spadaro. Andrea does a nice take on Jimmy Reed's "Big Boss Man." Sweaty Betty's Marcy Brown joins them all to close with a soaring "A Little Help from My Friends." But my favorites are those old Etta James tunes.

Southern Culture on the Skids

A cool name for a band, and very interesting sound. I suppose I could have listened to some of their music beforehand, but why spoil the surprise. If you've heard them, they need no explanation (therapy, perhaps, but no explanation). For those who haven't, they invoke the term "countrypolitan," which probably makes sense unless you try to explain it.

I guess it's roots music, where the roots of all different kinds of musical plants have gotten tangled up and produced a whining electric wall of rock 'n' roll, blues, country, maybe Duane Eddy, maybe anybody else you can name. I'm not sure what it means, but the first song was "Skullbucket." Shortly thereafter bass player Mary Huff did  "Nitty Gritty," and now the four of them are  churning away with a wall of sound that would make Phil Spector blush. These aren't exactly kids. They formed the band in North Carolina in 1983.

The darndest thing is, they are indescribably delicious. Or just indescribable. They continue in what they call a hillbilly vein (not jugular), with something called "Corn Liquor." And once again, the fest folk have thrown their security blanket to the wind and opened the concrete mosh pit in front of the stage. So far, no one has come bouncing out.

This is one of the bands that band booker Ron "Moondog" Esser said he wanted to book to bring out a variety of fans, and some that might even end up liking the blues. The other band being Dumpstaphunk.

Gollee, Gomer, now they're playing some kind of rapid surf music with a Mideastern twang -- it seems to be names "The Wet Spot." Naw, BlueNotes is too old to blush.

Front man Rick Miller has some standup comic in his genes, plus he's wearing what used to be called Bermuda shorts. A lot of that is relfected in their lyrics. There's a country-flavored thing -- "We're not in love with each other, we're in love with our best friends, so let's invite them over again." They also have songs about bugs: "Greenback Flies" and "Firefly." Then there car songs. All hammered out with fun and intensity.

But you can't please everybody. One gentleman just walked over and asked how much longer the band would play. He didn't seem to happy. And even though it's early, people are already asking me if I'm the guy selling the band merchandise. I should've brought a few garage-sale items.

 But I digress. These write great song titles -- my favorite, probably, "Liquored Up and Lacquered Down," which seems to be an ode of sorts to big hair. There's a chicken song with actual fried chicken being tossed into the audience (and some of it tossed back), women from the mosh pit hauled on stage to dance through the closing "Daddy Was a Preacher, But Momma Was a Go-Go Girl." Actually, hauled onstage is a bit misleading. They precticall hurled themselves up there. Which says something about the precentage of exhibitionists among us.

It wasn't exactly blues, but it sure was a lot of fun.

 The Pawnbrokers

 John Pergal's tight little band plays some of the best straight-up, down-home blues in the Burgh. He's a fine singer, and his band is top-notch. They do great covers and bluesy originals. I especially enjoyed John's take today on "Going Back to Shreveport." His is one of several local bands who donated their time and talent to the festival, which benefits the Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank.

John also runs the Thunderbord Cafe in Lawrenceville, which brings in some great blues artists. Just for example, this Thursday, he's got Idaho's fine R&B singer John Nemeth. If you've never heard him sing, do it. Do it anyway.

A few announcements

Moondog is ready to present Ivan Neville's Dumpstphunk, but first a few announcements:

First, it's a beautiful day. We know, but it gets a nice cheer anyway. Someone has lost a checkbook. Quick, write a big donation to the food bank. And at the same place where I just a while ago recovered my lost cell phone (technology, bah!), there are more phones to be had, some eyeglasses, wristwatches and a banana.

Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk

How many people can make the Credence classic "Fortunate Son" sound really really funky -- or is it phunky? Louisianans Neville and his Phunksters haven't slowed down sine they started qbout 15 minutes ago. It's part New Orleans, part funk, part soul, and once again, the Hartwood Acre dancers have been unleashed at the front of the stage. How about a little of "Woke Up This Morning," The Sopranos theme song?

I remember I used to get porkified with the Bossman, now I think I see what is to be Phunkified. These guys are relentlessly driving home their message, which seems to be "never stop moving your feet." The band cranks and cranks, all the players blending into a seamless, steamy, riveting sound. Ivan Neville brings his classy Neville Brothers pipes to the mix, not too far from the silky Neville sounds.

 The drummer takes very extended solo so the band can wipe themselves down and regroup for a tribute to Soul Brother No. 1 James Brown, whose music pushed soul in all kinds of new directions, including this one. His horn sections alone were doing these steps years ago. If only he'd lived a little longer, he could've been vice president.

How does, "I've got soul and I'm super bad" sound?

Soulful songstresses Jill Simmons and Andrea Pearl park their shoes next to the BlueNotes HQ tent and dance away the set. Photos later. Finally, people have a reason to look at the HQ. BlueNotes has an illusory moment of happiness.

I wish I could tell you the titles, but they almost don't matter as the soulful, funky beat rolls through all of them. Like a wave. A big one. Hang at least ten or twenty and ride it home.

 Jill West and the Blues Attack

She the local band holding forth at the moment. There's a nice crowd to finish off the festival. Tommy Castro should give them a good sendoff. If you can be air-dropped in, you can still see him. He's not a traditional Chicago-style guitarist, but his West-Coast licks are still excellent, and he puts on a great show. People I talk to who are familiar with his music are looking forward to the evening, while I've also heard a few reservations from people who haven't heard him, and wonder if he's a good closer. I think they'll all go home satisified.

Meanwhile Jill  and her band are laying down bluesy tracks on the small stage -- some of her standards -- "Love Song," "Don't Burn the Barbecue." She's a reliable blues belter, but right now her keyboard guy is making the earth shake with his organ licks.

Tommy Castro

He opens with a flash, lightning guitar licks, soars through "Nasty Habits," then shifts into "I May Be Broke, But I'm Not Broken, as the fenceless fans crowd the stage." He does blues and he does them soulfully. His vocals always seem dead-on.

Castro is one of those musicians who's also an entertainer. He always seems to be enjoying himself at least as much as everybody else. That's probably why he won the B.B. King Entertainer of the Year Award and Best Contemporary Blues Album at the 2008 Blues Music Awards.

He's a fan of extended fiery solos, and so are we. If there's a polar oppsite of slow-burning blues, it must be fast-buring blues like these. His blue notes spill up the hillside, finally blending into deepening blue sky. How's that for blues imagery? It might even be true.

Now he's talking about his show here at the Rex on the South Side a few months ago with Deanna Bogrt, Magic DicK and Ronnie Baker Brooks -- a great show, and he leans into something from that tour, now recorded, "Buked and Scorned" with searing sax and trumpet solos (is that the title? Should be, if it's not.) Both horn men, by the way, are just plain great. Keith Crossan on tenor sax and Tom Poole on trumpet add raunch and swing to turn this from blues band into a blues band.

It's geat to see a performer walk to edge of the stage, literally playing right into the fans. They both seem to love it. Some blues are distant stories; Castro's are in-your-face licks that bite. His voice carries more grit than you might expect, with a built-in drawl that add some soul.

Here's a blues song even I can relate to, about a transistor radio -- "Big Sister's Radio." All music sounded the same on them. It provided a sort of natural segue into sort of James Brown's "Sex Machine."

They send themselves off with extended solos by everybody, a terrific horn duet, bass and drum solos, a bass and drum duet. It's easy to say that band cooks, but it does.

He must be a good guy -- says he doesn't get to Pittsburgh often enough. And he says he's got some ribs he's looking forward to after the show. If they're as good as the music, nobody goes home hungry.

The maybe closer, kind of a built-in encore, a rousing bluesy anthem: "You Can't Keep a Good Man Down." Except there is a real encore. "High on the Hog," another rollicking, horn-driven jam that seems almost anti-climactic after "Good Man."

 If the Pittsburgh Blues Festival needed a climax, it was Tommy Castro. Say amen, somebody.

Last call, that's all

That's it. Darkness has tritely fallen on the West Coast blues of Tommy Castro and 14^th Pittsburgh Blues Festival. An excellent three days.

Some thanks:

- To the food bank and the sponsors for making it all happen. By any account, it was a great weekend.

- To the food bank people for making the space available to house the Hartwood Acres Branch of the BlueNotes World Headquarters. Many people told me it's the best seat in the house.

- To the Post-Gazette for humoring us in this first-ever venture, and to the PG marketing folks for the cool BlueNotes table sign for the fest. BlueNotes sees merchandising potential in that logo -- mugs, T-shirts, action figures....

- To everyone who stopped by the HQ at the fest to say hello, and to all you giving us a few page views online. Heck, I even appreciated the visits from people looking for band CDs.

- Most of all, to all the musicians who turned in inspired sets, and to their appreciative fans, all in the name of raising lots of money for the food bank.

Y'all give yourselves a big hand.

Some corrections:

I had a little trouble getting some of the names right for the Pittsburgh Blues All-Stars in the Saturday lineup. Here are a couple of notes from Bob Addleman to set things right.  

The bass player in the band was Norman's regular bassman, Harry Bottoms, not Dave Tauberg. Harry got stung by a yellow jacket during the set. It had gone into his open beer can, and he ended up getting stung in the mouth.  

Phil Brontz was supposed to be the sax man, and was replaced late by Eric, because Phil was playing with two acts on Sunday, and Norman wanted to spread things around.

Far from a belated addition, I've been playing with the All-Stars every year that they've played with horns, except for 2005 when I was at a public radio conference during festival weekend.

The correct spelling of my last name is Addleman.

Hope this helps fill in some cracks. Sorry I didn't get a chance to stop by the Blue Notes tent.

 And this note, also from Bob: 

Whitey "Clyde" Cooper never played with Jimmy Thackery. That was the other front man for the All-Stars, Mark Stutso, who is still Jimmy's drummer. Stuts made a CD on Moondog Records with Norman, Glenn Pavone, Tom Valentine and some others. There's one cover, and Norman and Whitey co-wrote one of the tunes. Otherwise, all of the songs are Norman's originals. It's rock, blues and soul, called "Rock My Soul."

Thanks, Bob. (My reference to a belated additon was my way of saying -- apparently not very clearly -- that I was adding those names later). My apologies for not getting all that done right on Saturday. I've gone back and made those changes.